I hate school.

I mean, it's bad enoughthat I have to sit through two hours of History class learning about how ancient Greeks thought watching two Gladiators killing each other, or being killed by man-eating animals was cool, (which is kind of gross and stupid to begin with,) but I have to sit through it with aching bones, a throbbing arm, several cuts, and a splitting headache.

Not that that's not normalfor me, anyway.

Sighing, I tuned out my history teachers lecture, and stared out the window, ignoring the pain I was feeling. It really wasn't that bad, compared to some injuries I had gotten in the past playing hero next to Batman as Robin, the Boy Wonder. I seriously could have gotten a whole lot worse last night fighting Mr. Freeze.

Still, I ache all over.

And that's not fun.

I really don't know how Bruce does it. Fight crime all night, get only about three hours of sleep, and then get up to go to work at Wayne Enterprises as the rich playboy millionaire, looking like he didn't have a care in the world, let alone tired or injured, or hungry. (He never really does bother to eat at all.) I try to do that too, (well, I do eat though,) but it's not as easy as it looks. Tiredness and pain sort of get the best of me, and I tend to sleep walk through most of school.

"Mr. Grayson…"

I wonder how Barbarafeels doing all this. She's in eighth grade, and I'm in sixth, but she must still feel similar to me, right? Being Batgirl behind her dad's back must be hard…

"Mr. Grayson."

Not to mention her dad is Commissioner, and she has to answer the Batsignal with us and hide who she really is from him…

"MR. GRAYSON!"

I snapped out of my daydream to find my history teacher practically in my face. "Mr. Grayson," he growled. "Now that I have finally captured your attention, would you mind sharing with the class what is so interesting out the window that you decided not to bother answering my question that I asked you three times?"

I flushed, and someone snickered. "Um…" I started to say, but at that moment, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Before the teacher could move, I grabbed my things and made a beeline for the door where the rest of the class was already filing out. "Saved by the bell!" I yelled back to the teacher, before slamming the door shut.

As I walked to lunch, (which seemed like it could never come,) my thoughts once again drifted over to Babs. Older, tall, smart, fast, flexible…not to mention extremely hot… Sighing, I reached the lunch line, and grabbed a tray.

"What would you like?" One of the lunch ladies asked me.

"Something hot…" I mumbled, still half in my daydream. The lunch lady gave me a long look, before scooping a big glob of "Hot Meat Surprise" onto my tray.

That got my attention.

Screwing up my face, I looked at the lady. "Um…can I have something else?" I asked, eyeing the Surprise like it was a bomb about to explode.

"Sorry, Charlie." The lady said, smirking. "You asked for somethin' hot, I gave you somethin' hot. Now keep movin', you're holding up the line!"

Cursing the lunch staff under my breath, I left the line and looked around for a place to sit. Practically every seat was taken, except for one table near the back. The Gang Table.

In Bristol Middle School, you learn fast never to ask if you can sit at that table.

Really all 'The Gang Table" was was a place where all the druggies and burly eighth graders hung out. Nothing Robin couldn't take out with a few well-aimed kicks and a few uppercuts. But that was the type of trouble that Dick Grayson's personality stayed clear of, so I did. But if I ever met any of those thugs on the street after nightfall…well, let's just say they wouldn't be so lucky.

As I scanned for an empty spot somewhere in the lunchroom, it was a pleasant surprise to hear someone calling my name to my left.

"Hey, Grayson!" the female voice yelled out. "Over here!"

I turned to see the smiling face and red hair of Barbara Gordon, patting an empty seat beside her. Smiling, I walked over to her, and put my tray down on the table.

"All right, Grayson," I thought to myself. "Keep your cool. Don't make a fool of yourself."

"Hey Barbara!" I greeted her as I sat down. "Thanks for helping me find a seat."

Barbara smiled. Her beautiful, radiant smile. "No prob," she said. "So how's life as a puny sixth grader?"

She punched me playfully in the arm, and I winced. That happened to be right where I had landed when Mr. Freeze threw me through a window last night…

"Same as usual," I answered Babs tightly, with as much as a normal voice as I could muster. "Boring, dull, uninteresting. Almost got myself another detention."

I thought I sounded pretty good. Slick, cool, and most definitley not in pain. But Babs nonetheless noticed my wince, and seemed to realize why. She quickly mouthed "Sorry!" before one of her eighth grade friends, Jenny, spoke.

"Hey Grayson," she said. "What's it like being the son of a playboy millionaire?"

Her question caught me off guard. Well, yeah, I get that question a lot, but I hardly knew Jenny, and she was an eighth grader. And besides Babs, eighth graders never talk to sixth graders. "Um, fine." I said lamely. "Bruce is, uh, really dedicated to his work at Waynetech and all, and uh, he isn't around much."

Jenny snorted. " 'Really dedicated to his work'?" She sneered. "Yeah right. More like trying to find himself another rich chick to date, and then dump."

Some of the girls snickered. "So Mr. Wayne's not around much, hm?" A blonde girl that I didn't know the name of asked before I could say anything. "No time for little Dicky Wicky?"

I didn't know what to say. My first reaction was anger, and the urge to punch this chick in the face, but I pushed that down. The next was the feeling that I should stand up for Bruce. Sure, he wasn't around much, but it wasn't completely his fault. He's got work plus protecting a whole city on his shoulders, and since he's a much better detective than I am, he usually does most of the real sleuthing. But on the other hand…I wish he were there for me more. He almost never asks me how school's going; let alone how my grades are doing. Heck, I'm flunking every class because being Robin takes up all my studying time!

As I tried to figure out what to say, Barbara, good old Barbara, saved my hide. "Leave him alone guys," she said. "It isn't his fault Mr. Wayne is never around. Don't be such jerks."

The other girls looked like they wanted to harass me some more, but they shut up. For once, I was glad Barbara is one of the most popular girls in school. I gave her a quick, grateful smile before looking down at my tray. I had no intention of eating the goop, so when the bell rang to signal the end of lunch, I threw it out. Who knows what they might put in that stuff?

As I turned to leave the lunchroom, I noticed Barbara had hung back. Smiling, I joined her at the end of the line of kids leaving the lunchroom. "Um, thanks for standing up for me back there," I said awkwardly.

Barbara smiled one of her radiant smiles. "It was nothing," she said kindly. "They shouldn't have been making fun of you like that. Sorry they were so nasty."

"It's fine," I said, waving the apology away. "I just…you know. Didn't know how to respond…truthfully."

Barbara nodded knowingly. "How are you holding up from last night?" she asked, her voice dropping to a near whisper, so only I could hear.

"Okay," I said. "I ache all over, but that's nothing new. Whadda 'bout you?"

She shrugged. "Couple bruises and scrapes. Nothing major. It wasn't me who was thrown through a window."

I blushed, and was about to retort when I heard my best friend, Carl, call my name. "Hey Dick! Over here buddy!"

I turned to see the curly blond kid with his usual Gotham Knights jersey on standing in the doorway to my Science classroom, waving widely at me. I smiled, and said a quick "See ya!" to Babs, who returned it before walking off towards her next class, Geometry. I quickly joined Carl, and we sat down together at our Science table. I noticed three test tubes, and a bin of lab goggles. Uh-oh. Experiment. Great.

Carl didn't seem worried. He was too busy making fun of Barbara and me.

"Barbara and Dicky, sitting in a tree," he sang in a high-pitched, girly voice.

"Shut up," I muttered, punching him in the arm.

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

" Shut up!" I hissed, urgent this time. Someone might hear, and that would lower my reputation even more. He stopped and gave me that goofy grin he always wears. I shook my head at him. "I don't know why I deal with you," I said. He shrugged, and then started pestering me with questions.

"Do you wanna come over to my house after school? Play video games?" he asked hopefully.

Regretfully, I shook my head. "I have to catch up with my homework," I said lamely. "I need to pull up my grades, or I'm sunk."

"Awwww man! Bummer," Carl said, giving me his best-disappointed face, which quickly turned to a thrilled one when an idea hit him. "Heeyyy, why don't you come over to my house so we can study together!"

I looked at him, and laughed. "Me? Study with you?" Carl's grades were worse than mine. "I don't think so."

But Carl's face was dead serious. "I mean it, man," he said. "You can come over, and we'll do our homework together. I can do it, I just usually choose not to."

I looked at him, long and hard.

"We might take a break, now and then to kill some aliens…but all and all, we'll still get the work done," Carl gushed.

I hesitated. It would be nice to spend some time with Carl outside of school…and I'm sure Alfred wouldn't object.

"I…guess I could," I said finally. "For a little bit. I'd have to ask Al."

"Al…oh, right," Carl said, momentarily forgetting who Al was. "The butler."

I blushed, since most kids don't have butlers, but Carl wasn't fazed. In fact, he looked even more excited.

"You could have Alfred drive us to my house in your limo!" he cried. "And then we can study…and play video games…and maybe even make it into a sleepover!"

"NO!" I shouted before I could stop myself.

Carl looked surprised, and hurt. "Why not?"

"Um, well, I can't have a sleepover," I said hurriedly.

Carl looked at me. "Why not?" he asked, slowly this time.

Think of something. Think of something!

"Because, uh, I have to go to a party. With Bruce," I covered quickly.

Carl looked at my face with suspicion. "A party?" he repeated.

Don't ask what party. PLEASE don't ask which party!

"Do you have to wear a monkey suit?" he laughed.

I let out a sigh of relief. "Uh, yeah," I said. "Yeah I do."

Carl made a face. "Ewwww, HA!"

I grimaced, and nodded, happy to play along and throw Carl off.

"I'll, uh, have to be back home by six," I told him. "But I should be able to play-uh, I mean, study, until then."

Carl's face lit up. "Great!" he said, and then hesitated before asking, "Can we still ride in the limo?"

I smiled. "We'll see."

Just then, the teacher took to the front of the class, explaining our newest experiment, and we were forced to turn our attention to him. But nonetheless, I was smiling. I was going over to Carl's! I had never gone to any of my friend's houses before, because my job of looking over the city demanded so much time. Even though I had to go on patrol at six, (thank God Carl believed my lie about the party!) and I couldn't sleep over, it would still be fun. It gave me a chance to catch up on my schoolwork, plus play some video games. Could life get any better?

For once, things were starting to look up.

…but I still hate school.